


No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

by dynamicsymmetry



Series: Pacify [17]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shaving, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3971494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dynamicsymmetry/pseuds/dynamicsymmetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing Beth sprung on Daryl... Not so much with the freaking out, after a while. Way more with the really liking it, in fact. Liking it enough to want to do it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

**Author's Note:**

> *face in hands*

It's so fucked up.

Then again, _fucked up_ isn't exactly new territory for them. And something this entire process has taught him is that you can like something _because_ it's fucked up. That can be what gets you off on it, among other things. That it's bad, that they shouldn't, but they will because it feels so _fucking_ good.

He worried about what it said about him that it felt that good. That he was able to do those things, _say_ those things, no idea where they were coming from, what hidden place inside him was spawning them, but that's happened before - doing things with and to her that should horrify him but seem to come from a place inside him that needs to do them, wants to do them, _loves_ to do them, and somehow it's all a part of the complicated business of loving her.

Which at its heart is ultimately very simple.

Do what you want. Do what feels good. Leave the rest aside, because if you adhere to the first two rules and you do it together, the rest of it doesn't matter.

It's fucked up. But later they talked, a little tentative, a bit uncertain, but it was all right. And before, right after they had finished, she was happy, and when he carried her to bed and stroked her and soothed her until she was almost dozing in the light of late afternoon, turned her over and slid inside her again and was gentle, she opened to him as easily as she ever has. Wanted it. Wanted him.

It's fucked up. But she gets what she wants.

So does he.

~

After the first time she did it, they decided between them that it should continue.

The main thing and a sub-element, in fact.

He thinks there are a lot of reasons for that, primary among them that they both love the way it _feels_. He loves gliding his fingers over it, over the silky skin near the creases of her thighs, the swells of her outer lips, her smooth little mound. She says she can feel more that way, feel that touch when he gives it to her - when he does _anything_ to her down there - and her clit is more exposed, standing out dark pink and swollen and needy with no hair to block his view before she even spreads herself.

They like it.

He also likes watching her do it.

They're easing into it, not jumping right in like they did before. She wanted to surprise him then, meant to, but now - standing under the warm spray with her, fingers combed into her tangle of wet hair, watching glittering beads of water run down her arms and breasts and belly - there's no surprise at all. Just the gradual building of something, rising like the steam. Her hands between her legs, the razor working slowly over and across her soapy skin, lightly scraping her clean.

"Good girl," he whispers, fingers moving just a bit. Not quite stroking. He's hard and has been since before they got in here, jutting up dark and heavy and aching for her, but she's not touching him and he's not touching himself. That can come later. If she's good he'll let her.

She glances up at him, that look of wide-eyed innocence sliding down over her like a curtain - it's real, it's _her,_ but this is still a game. She's smiling a little, clearly happy of the approval, clearly hoping for more.

"Daddy," she says, also in nothing more than a whisper, and he allows himself a soft groan. There's no flipped switch, but this might be close to that. It's really begun now. The transition period through which they were drifting is finished.

"Keep goin', baby." He leans in and kisses her brow - this is still gentle and will be for a while, which will just make what comes after so much better. She sighs and leans more solidly against him, and she obeys, bracing a leg against the edge of the tub and spreading herself open to shave the deeper part of her outer lips. "That's good. Look at that."

"Will you touch me?" Smiling wider, tongue flicking out to pass across her lips, eagerness in it. Still faint, still restrained, but her hands have been traveling over her cunt and around her clit for some time now, and he hasn't allowed her to do anything but this.

"If you're a good girl."

"Will you let me come?"

He arches a brow, closes his hand on her jaw in a loose but warning grip, and tilts her head up. She's bold already, bucking for punishment. That's an interesting indicator of how this might end up going. "Do good girls ask for that kinda thing?"

She tries to shake her head, worry flickering across her face, but he knows pretense when he sees it, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

"So you lemme decide that. You just keep doin' like I say."

"Yes, Daddy." She drops her eyes, demure now - almost shy - and he releases her, stroking a hand over her hair again, eyes once more locked on the careful, deliberate passage of the razor.

Too soon she's done - even though he told her to take her time - and she hands him the razor and he slides it into the shower caddy and turns his attention fully back to her. She's standing still, waiting for him, eyes downcast and her breath coming quickly, her small breasts rising and falling with the expansion of her ribs. He gets the sense, watching her, that she's augmenting that effect on purpose. A tiny manipulation.

He might have to get her for that.

"You're so pretty, girl." He moves closer to her and cups the back of her neck, caressing and then gripping her - once again loose but firm. "Hold still for me. You move, you're gonna be in trouble."

She swallows, throat clicking audibly, and nods, and he lifts her face to his and kisses her.

There's something different about kissing her when she's like this, gone to the place in her head that allows her to don this particular mask - a kind of reluctance, not exactly resistance but as if she's unsure, maybe even the slightest bit frightened. So he's still kind to her, parting her lips gently with his, entering her mouth with soft strokes of his tongue almost as if he's asking permission. And this is always when she gives in and presses forward with a low moan, sliding her tongue alongside his, curling against him. Eager again.

He lets it go on for a moment or two, then pulls back enough to speak, lips still against hers, kissing her as he talks. "Touch me, baby girl. Get your hand on me."

Her breath hitches - again that hint of nervousness - but she reaches forward immediately and he feels her slender fingers curling around his shaft, twice as hot as the water, and a faint shiver hums through him.

"That's a good girl." He rolls his hips, pushing into the circle of her fist, and can't restrain another shiver. Usually he likes to remain above this if he can, at least as first - stay cool and half removed and in control while she's the one shuddering and moaning and begging him for more. But there's no way that's happening now. Best to not even try. "Feel that?"

She releases a breathy moan, nods as she swipes her thumb across his underside.

"That's all for you, little girl. If you're good."

"What should I do, Daddy?"

"Let go. Keep holdin' still for me." It's a loss when she removes her hand, but his own is on her, gliding down her gleaming skin from her shoulders to her breasts where they pause, cupping her, thumbs tracing idle circles around her nipples. He can tell it's taking all she has to keep from pressing forward, trying to fill up his hands, and he shakes his head and smiles.

"Toldja."

"Yes, Daddy, I-" And she squeaks and jerks backward when he pinches both nipples between his forefingers and thumbs and gives them a cruel twist.

He's not going to laugh. He's not going to take things there yet. No matter how much he wants to. "Girl, I _toldja._ "

"I'm sorry, Daddy, I didn't-" Whimpering, definitely nervous now, and when he gives her another twist she whimpers louder, nearly shuddering into a sob.

"Your tits are _mine_." Punctuating the end of each sequence of words with yet another pinch, another tug. "And I can do what I _want_ with 'em. And you just gotta _take_ it."

She moans brokenly, and despite what he can tell is a genuine effort to do what he said, she's swaying, hands hanging loose at her sides and fingers twitching. "I'm trying."

"Try harder. You want me to touch your pussy? You mind me, girl."

He pinches as hard as he has yet and almost _yanks_ at her, and her teeth clamp down on her bottom lip and a sobbing cry slams against the inside of her sealed mouth- but this time she doesn't move, at least not any more than he's forcing her to, and he lets her go a second later, thumbs back to their soothing, teasing circles across her overheated, abused skin.

"See? You can be a good girl."

She nods, teeth still digging into her lip, but everything in her loosens and sags when he reaches down and closes his hand over her cunt, taking slow inventory - lips, clit, delightfully silky skin.

"Oh, baby, that's so nice." He lays his other hand against her jaw, tilts her face back up. She's flushed burning crimson from her ears to her chest, her nipples standing out hard and her areolae almost as red. "You like how that feels?" He slaps at the inside of her thigh and she shifts her legs wider, gasping softly as he grazes his fingertips over and around her clit, pressing it back and forth. "Got your sweet little pussy all smooth for me."

"Yeah, Daddy..." Words carried out in breathless moans; she's still making a valiant attempt at remaining still but it's a losing battle, her hips canting forward. "It feels so good, it... Oh God, please touch me like that, please... I want you to... My clit, Daddy, please."

"Got yourself talkin' kinda like a slut, there, girl."

"I can be one if you want, Daddy." Suddenly her voice is rougher and a lot less innocent while maintaining that higher, fluttery register she likes to adopt. This time the rocking of her hips is obviously intentional, _blatantly_ so, and it's even clearer than before.

She's goading him.

Well, then.

But restraint. For the moment. He slides his thumb down her cheek, pulling at the corner of her mouth. "Just for me?"

Hot breath at the base of his neck. "Just for you."

"Maybe." His fingers slip lower, nestling into her folds and spreading her, nosing at her but not pushing in. She's soaked, juices mingling with the water flowing over his hand, slick against her hairless skin. "Christ, you're so wet, baby girl. Feel that." He's not talking about himself but he arches a little, the head of his cock bobbing against her hip, and she shivers delicately.

"I want your cock, Daddy." Her head falls back and sideways into his hand, his thumb slipping partway into her mouth. She licks at it, her eyes half-lidded and struggling to focus. "Your big cock, I want it, I want it so _bad_."

"Where?"

She shudders out a whimper, sucking at his thumb, and he laughs and finally gives her his finger, thrusting it hard into her and making her muscles clench, a muffled cry bursting out of her.

"You want it in that wet pussy, don't you. Huh, little girl? That's where you want it." He's fucking her, fast and rough, and she can't even pretend to control herself now, moaning along with his rhythm and undulating her hips, trying to shove him deeper. "Fuck, you _are_ a slut. Just for me?"

He shifts his thumb to the side, stretching out her cheek, and she sobs and nods, managing a mutilated _just for you._

Okay, now.

"Yeah, I dunno. I don't think so." Abruptly both his hands are gone and she stumbles back, barely catching herself in time, her hand slipping against the tile wall. She stares up at him, eyes huge and round and her swollen lips parted, surprised and apprehensive.

He believes she's apprehensive. He doesn't think she's all that surprised.

He whips his hand back and lands a ringing slap on the side of her thigh, and she squeaks and hops on one leg, almost falls again. "Get the fuck out. Don't dry yourself. Get in the bedroom now."

She moves. Obedient girl now that he's coming at her, she falls back before him, scrambles out of the shower as he cuts the water off and through the bathroom door. She's moving half backward, dripping, as he advances on her - just as wet as she is. But God, she's so fucking beautiful like this: small and trembling, eyes eating up her face, skin gleaming and her tangles of glorious hair trickling water down her neck and shoulders and arms.

"Please, Daddy..."

" _Get._ " He reaches her, smacks her again, and she turns and nearly _scampers_ the rest of the way down the hall and into the bedroom, bare feet sliding on the hardwood. She's heading for the bed when he reaches her again, but he doesn't imagine she really expects to get there, and she's a few feet away when he seizes her by the back of the neck and halts her in her tracks.

"You don't get the bed, dirty girl. Get on the floor." When he slaps her it's even harder than before, stinging his palm and flushing her fair skin a furious red, and a short, high scream rips out of her.

Fuck, he is so glad they decided to live alone.

He shoves her by the grip on her neck, angling her whole body down. "Hands and knees, slut. Ass in the air. That sweet little pussy just for me? You prove it." And he cuffs the back of her head - not hard but plenty hard enough - and she drops.

She hits the floor with a sharp thump, and he's grateful for the carpeting - though she's going to have wicked rugburn later, which he suspects she might enjoy. He drops with her, water from his own body spattering onto her shoulders, and grabs her by her hair, fisting it as she thrusts her ass upward and back.

And he really has to stop and admire that. Her ass is so amazing, a full, supple curve, her cheeks spread and the darker circle of flesh around her asshole, smooth puffy lips of her cunt underneath, glistening with wet that didn't come from the shower. But she's still wet from that too, shining, and he braces a hand against her tailbone and strokes his other down to her thigh, slapping her legs apart.

"Get your hands back here, girl. Both of 'em. Spread yourself for me."

She whimpers, quivering, wobbling as her cheek presses unsupported into the rug, reaches under and up and spreads herself wide. He bends closer, and as he does heat abruptly pulses through him, thick and churning. He had done that thing he does, gotten so lost in her and in his own head that he almost forgot his cock, but now it's very firmly reminding him, throbbing heavy between his legs and so hard it almost hurts. Because there's her slick pink cunt, winking little hole nestled between her parted lips. He reaches in, circles a fingertip around it, and the noise she makes is weak and lost.

"Daddy, please..."

"Please what, baby?"

"I just... I dunno, Daddy." Helpless. She sounds like she might cry. He presses the tip of his finger into her, barely there at all, and she sobs again and pushes her hips back against him, making another one of those weak sounds when he withdraws.

"Well, try to come up with somethin'."

"I want you in my _cunt._ " It's almost a harsh wail, half muffled by the rug. "Daddy, I want it... I want your cock, I want... Oh my God, in my pussy, please fuck me, Daddy, _please_ , I'll do _anything_..."

"Christ, you are _such_ a bad girl." He laughs, hard and rough, and he can't hope to obscure how delighted he is, because he _is -_ warm and full in him, beating in his chest like an echo of his heart. She's wonderful and he'll never, ever be able to tell her how much. "You are _such_ a fuckin' slut, look at you. You don't give a fuck if it's my cock. You'd take _anythin'_."

"Just you, Daddy, just you, I _swear._ "

"You'd do anythin'? Really?" Two fingers in her, suddenly, shoved and stretching her, and she lets out another scream and shudders like she's crying. Which she might be, not with pain so much as sheer overwhelming desperation.

"Yeah. Anythin'."

"I don't think you can take my cock, baby girl. You feel too tight to me."

No words this time. Just another one of those long, sobbing, almost mournful moans, and the steady roll of her hips as he rams his fingers into her, thick and fast and ruthless.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth, honey. I'm gonna do that, you're gonna take it, and that's how I'll know you're mine." He leans in and closes his teeth over the flesh of her ass, bites hard enough to make her jerk and squeal, and he could swear he feels his cock twitch. "You gonna do that for me? Be my good little girl?"

"Yeah. I will. Just yours." Her fingers finally slip loose and her hands drop to the floor, groping for purchase. He holds her up with the fingers in her cunt, with his other hand, with the fact that he hasn't decided to let her fall.

"Alright, girl." Suddenly the ferociousness is gone and he's slow in her, gentle, his other hand running soothing patterns over her back and ass. "There you go. You're just fine." He glides his lips over the base of her spine and lower, down toward where her cheeks part, flicking her with his tongue and tasting water and faint salt. "You wanna come?"

Her sob comes hard and shaky and almost bleeds into an incredulous laugh. "Oh my _God,_ Daddy, please. Please, please let me."

"See how nice I can be." He licks her again, braces a hand on each cheek and pulls them apart as wide as he can, and she arches her back and keens long and ragged when he licks her ass in a rough swipe.

She loves when he goes down on her. _Loves_ doesn't really do the job; he makes her crazy, makes her writhe and twist under him - not out of any mythical natural talent but simply by virtue of knowing her that well now, taking his time to figure out what exactly floods her veins with fire, sends whirlwinds through her head, makes her lose her fucking mind. He can do that with his mouth, his tongue, teeth and fingers. He can give her that until she literally can't take it anymore.

But this absolutely destroys her.

Part of her is trying to pull away as he swirls his tongue around her asshole, tickles her with the tip, just barely presses against the tight ring of muscle, and he has to tighten his grip, hold her in place, because there's still a tiny bit of embarrassment here - a delicious little thread of shame. It just makes him work her with a steady, hungry relentlessness, licking down and down to her cunt and nudging between her lips, ducking his head as far as he can and flicking against the hard, throbbing nub of her clit. And back up, a single long movement, back to give her ass his full attention.

He doesn't even know how to describe the noises she's making. Grinding, jagged things from deep in her throat, twisted at the ends, gasping fragments of words - _please, Daddy, God, fuck,_ and his name, which they've decided she isn't supposed to say when they're doing this but which - because he's not entirely sure she's even fully conscious anymore - he'll allow.

Because he is nice. He's very nice.

He pulls back, licking his lips, his mouth and cheeks and jaw coated in her all slick and sweet, and he simply looks at her for a moment, at her shaking like a reed in a gale and hardly managing to support herself on her hands, arms trembling and muscles straining, her back bent into a severe arch and her hair flung over her burning face. On pure impulse he reaches down and lifts the strands away, and she looks up at him, her one visible eye unfocused and watering, jaw working.

It grips his heart in a fist and squeezes him. Heat in his cock, pounding, pulsing with his blood, but in the cage of his ribs too. Both together. One is never there singly.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leans down and presses a soft kiss to her cheek, the skin under his lips hot as sickness. "Sweetheart, you're so good. You get to come now."

"I- Thank you, Daddy," she whispers, and he pushes himself up and returns to her, hauling her ass as high as it'll go, rubbing his fingers rapidly over her thrumming clit as he matches the rhythm with his tongue around the rim of that tight little ring.

When she comes she convulses under him, wailing like a banshee, twisting herself so hard she almost falls and drenching his hand. He holds her, doesn't let up, keeps moving until she's groping for him and begging him to stop, it's too much, _It's too much, Daddy, I can't, please stop, please please please-_

So he stops. Because he's very nice.

Also he has plans for her.

"You got yours, girl." He pushes himself up and grabs her by the hair again, yanks her with him, and she whines and fumbles at his hands at the same time as she's trying to obey. She's still unsteady, still extremely lacking in muscle tension, but he doesn't care because the _point_ of this is not to care, and he pulls her upright on her knees and frames her head with his hands and stares down at her as she stares right back.

Face just as red as he caught in that half glimpse of her. One cheek raw and burned from the rug, both streaked with tears. Her lips pink and wet, tongue moving between them like she's already going to work on him, hair a fucking mess and every part of her shuddering with exhaustion and aftershocks.

He sighs and it catches in his throat as he's rocked by his own shudder, settling dense into his core and sending the flames there leaping even higher. His cock is so close to her bottom lip, practically lying against it, precome gathering in a rush like it wants her mouth. Like every part of him does, suffering for her, because she's his slut and his goddess and his girl and he'll worship her like this if she'll let him.

Which she will.

"I love you, my sweet baby girl," he whispers, takes himself in his hand and closes the last little distance between the head and her. "Open wide."

She does. Her mouth drops open and her eyes fall closed and she groans, not in any kind of pain anymore but in pure raging hunger, because her own fire isn't even close to out yet, and she only leans in closer as he grips her head with both hands and begins to fuck her mouth, hard and fast and so deep she gags.

It's not going to take him long. Of course it isn't. How long has he been diamond fucking hard for this, for her? He doesn't even know how long they've been doing this; it feels like hours. But she's here now and he's in her, all wet-hot thunder on her swirling tongue, thrusting in and bottoming out against the back of her throat and pulling back completely, his fingers combed into her hair as she coughs and thick spit runs down her chin.

"You can take it, baby." Just giving her enough time to get her breath before he's fucking his way back into her, just as deep and just as hard, not showing her any mercy because she wouldn't want any. "Good girl, you can take it, look at you, baby, you're so good, ah, _fuck_ -" He can't, he wants to hold off even seconds longer but he can't, and his head drops forward and he forces his eyes open, staring at her as she opens hers and stares back, lips wrapped tight around his shaft.

Fuck, those _eyes._

"Oh, _God,_ yeah, you little-" _slutbitchbabygirlbethIloveyouIloveyou_ and on into a string of obscene incoherence as he floods her mouth, and her throat works frantically, muscles bobbing as she receives everything he gives her.

And when she falls he goes down with her, weak with his aftershocks quaking through him, but he manages to gather her into his arms, rocking her slowly and passing his hand over her heaving shoulders and back, stroking her, whispering to her that she's so sweet, she's so good for him, she did so well and he's so proud of her, _Oh baby. Honey. Sweetheart, you're all mine._

~

Later, in bed. Evening - they've missed dinner. Doesn't matter. He might bring her something. He just wants to hold her now, hold onto her curled against him, feel her breathing into the protective hollow he makes with himself. She feels smaller than she should, except she should feel _exactly_ like this, because this is perfect. Lips against her brow, against her scars, combing his fingers through her hair and slowly working out the knots.

He looks at her in the soft, warm light from the bedside lamp, and she blinks sleepily up at him - loose and still unfocused and generally out of it, which is how he knows she's all right. Even though he asked. He'll never find a way to tell her everything he wants to tell her, but he can show her with his hands.

And sometimes he can still say things, anyway. Fucked up things that maybe aren't all that fucked up, underneath.

She's so good, and she's his brilliant, beautiful girl.

So he says it, pulling her closer. That much, mouth moving against the scar on her cheek so he's kissing her as he speaks. _You're my good girl._

_You're my Beth._


End file.
